8 seconds
by sparklingplum
Summary: boy meets girl: 8.2 seconds
1. Chapter 1

**all warnings** (flash-wrote under minutes after reading an unexpected prompt)

i.

"I love her like this: if she's sitting beside me and we are taking an important test, I'd totally give her all the correct answers and answer none for myself."

Ichigo snorts, he guesses some things are _importanter_ than passing exams and education and career.

This is one of the talks that run on subways at 2 in the afternoon, and probably the least stupid of them. Ichigo thinks they are all worth shit, but he hears them anyway.

He stands in one of the slightly-filled (fortunately) train car predominantly occupied by men of various ages –something routinely for a college boy. He's a bright sight in towering height; wearing black pants and a white shirt with rolled-up long sleeves.

Girls are rarely seen in his part of the train. But he spots _one_ in the middle of tall boys and middle-aged men.

Ichigo shifts in his position by the windows and bars, turning slightly to her and adjusting his backpack.

She carries kendo garments –strapped on her back- large and heavy and takes so much room. The tip of the bokken she carries stays upward, few inches higher than her height. And that prompts him: _she's tiny_ , barely reaching his chest (if he were to stand beside her). Her hair in a ponytail and a loose bang between her eyes (and girls who wear their hair in a ponytail mean serious business) she wears a pale peach sundress and admittedly unnoticeable in her petite form.

There's a kendo dojo at the station right _after_ his station.

Ichigo spends the rest of his train ride trying to calculate her weight (assumingly) and the weight of those things she carries and _how_ the fuck could she carry that?

When the train arrives to his station, he walks out in long strides. And when he hears the familiar ding signaling the doors' closure, he looks back at the train.

There are 8.2 seconds before the doors close fully, and he stares directly at the girl during those 8.2 seconds.

(whereas she catches him but nonchalantly looks away and he's does not)

* * *

prompt: a research says it takes 8.2 seconds for men to "fall in love" (but i think it means "to be attracted")


	2. Chapter 2

ii.

"I love her like this: if she's a competing applicant and we are applying for the same post, I'd totally screw up my job interview for her."

Ichigo snorts, _idiot_. What if the girl didn't get the job as well?

It is 01:00 pm, slightly ahead of his schedule, and Ichigo stands on his familiar spot, and opposite him is the short girl with the kendo garments.

The short girl _still_ with the kendo garments.

She isn't looking at him, but at her phone, fiddling and constantly tapping at it. Harshly.

An easy tilt of his head and he sees her playing on her phone; she's playing Patchmania.

Stupid bunnies; she's probably an idiot, he thinks sourly and turns to look at other people instead.

When he arrives in his station, he looks at the girl still tapping away at her phone and how determined she looks, then he walks out.

 _Idiot_.


	3. Chapter 3

iii.

He does not see her again weeks after his second encounter with her. (despite consciously delaying and adjusting his time in boarding the train hoping to catch her)

One particular night, his adjustments landed him to a deserted bus stop and surrounded by (slightly) flooded roads.

The train station is _literally_ across him.

The rain is quite heavy and thundering, and it busted some of the streetlamps leaving him in partial darkness. _Still_ , the rain is heavy enough not to attempt anything.

The discord and the challenge in it come in the familiar short girl with the kendo garments who comes up to him in the bus stop, totally unexpected.

"You again?" she barks at him, in a voice that is distinctively boyish (but somewhat feminine).

She spares him a quick look. (a lightning nearby and a flickering lamppost tell him her eyes are the color of metallic purple)

And Ichigo, all damp and unruly and probably smells like metal and rain and sun, stares open-mouthed at her.

The girl is sodden all over, her dress –which is the color of the greenest apple- clings to her but she doesn't seem to mind (Ichigo minds it a lot). Her huge kendo garments still strapped to her back. She smirks at him and readjusts her straps (while Ichigo figures how to recover).

Then the girl runs across the flooded roads towards the train station.

"What the fuck?!" he shouts after her.


	4. Chapter 4

iv.

Ichigo is very much awake.

Ichigo stares straight ahead; there is an old couple in front of him, idiotic talks all around, and giggling girls –the usual. His body is tensed, the way someone expecting a mugger would. But it's not about mugging, it's the heat.

Outside the train, the afternoon sun is situated high in the sky and its light streamlined through the windows and it burns like hell and the heat is _kind of_ unbearable (never mind the train's ACs)

Then something ice-cold pokes his right cheek.

 _Of course_.

(there are 8.2 seconds)

And his timing today is correct –without meaning to.

Ichigo glares slightly _and_ his lips twitch a little to form a lopsided curve. There she is, casually standing beside him, quietly nibbling on a pink-colored ice pop, looking ahead on the train windows. The kendo bulk usually strapped on her back is gone, and he finds that she looks better.

"You," he starts, his voice a little too raspy. (but there's this swelling thing in his chest, _maybe_ : it is probably called excitement)

She doesn't look his way, but presses a pink-wrapped ice pop on the left side of his face.

"Don't look so grouchy," she tells him, "it's strawberry," and presses the ice pop harder on his cheek, "eat that then thank me."

* * *

the fruity ice pop is from south korea and is called melona, i love it.


	5. Chapter 5

v.

The fifth time he sees her, it is not on a train or a bus stop, but on road crossing point.

It's a relatively easy Saturday morning. No class. Absolute freedom for forty-hours.

The traffic light signals red. And there are several people standing waiting to cross the road with him. (he's on an errand run for Yuzu: a long green-something vegetable, a cooking oil that says it's olive, a bottle of apple cider.

This is where, of course, he least expects a visit from that stupid train fairy: short and purple and airy.

She's on the crossing, too. But she has demons with her. Seven –then eight- he counts nine little demons. All wearing kindergarten uniforms and matching little hats. And all of them –with her at the center- are holding hands.

"Oi, where's the bokken and kendo stuff?" Ichigo asks casually and audibly for her to hear.

She looks his way, admittedly looking bright and pretty in a pale pink sundress. Her hair is down, its end meeting her chin, "and why are you surrounded by suspiciously quiet little demons?"

"They are _my_ kids," she tells him and there's an edge on her voice that is disturbingly both polite and sharp, "they are very well-behaved. I taught them that."

Fuck no. One of them is a blonde kid, and is obviously _not_ her kid.

She smiles at him knowingly, as if daring him to challenge her.

Then one of the little girls suddenly calls, "Rukia-chan! Rukia-chan!" she shouts cheerfully, waving her short arms, pointing at him.

The black-haired and purple-eyed girl's reaction is immediate, "yes?" she replies kindly to the little girl.

"A big carrot!"

"What the hell?" Ichigo is never really one to exactly censor his words. (but then, at the back of his mind: _Ah_ , so it's Rukia)

* * *

vine, random fan, queenb, unspecified guest/s: thank you. ❀(*´◡`*)❀


	6. Chapter 6

vi.

" _Damn_ ," Ichigo breathes, his chocolate ice cream melting off on his fingers and dripping onto the park lawn, "are you training them for the military or something?"

He throws a bewildered look at her direction.

(after buying all of Yuzu's needs, the purple-eyed girl –who skillfully and politely robbed him of his money- leads him to a small playground kind of park at the back of the convenience store)

"No." She answers curtly, elegantly sitting on the bench: knees together and legs slanted, a hand on her small purse and the other wiping the non-existent ice cream stains on her lips daintily. The greenery around them allows the sunrays to be filtered, _Rukia_ sits under the shades, even so, occasional sun streaks hit her, and Ichigo thinks she might be glowing.

He looks back at her cronies: the kids are all lined up sitting on a single bench; their ice-creams are colored according to the rainbow _and_ arranged likewise, their short legs swinging front and back _in sync_. And they are very, very quiet –no slurp-y noises or any other kind kiddy noise, and probably the most bizarre of all, they are eating very neatly.

Ichigo feels like a shit caveman.

He did not hear her _order_ them anything. There is a single reason for this, he thinks darkly.

" _You_ are a _monster_." He tells her seriously.

"No, I _am_ a kindergarten teacher," she says, and for a moment, smiles a little bit, "we are hardly ever called monster-"

"-I'll make an exception, what did you do to these kids, huh? They're supposed to ran around like crazy animals and claw each other's face off for simply breathing and-"

"-I'm also a kendo instructor." She finishes in a sinister way. (and also, _still_ , very politely)

Ichigo accidentally chomps on his ice cream, coughs a little, takes the whole cone in his mouth, momentarily forgetting about brain freeze and tooth aches and numb throats and blue lips (he thinks: to spit it out in front of these seemingly neat kids is to make himself classless and stupid).

Her two jobs are a ridiculous combination, much like extreme opposites.

Before he could say anything, she stands up and asks her little, well-behaved demons, "would you like the very kind Carrot-kun to treat us another round of ice cream – _or_ whatever it is that you like?"

There are polite nods and chirpy cries of _yup_ and _yes, please_ and he hears his wallet groan.


	7. Chapter 7

vii.

Ichigo nearly dozed off, headphones over his ears and a month-late edition of his year's biochemistry journal open on his lap (that he doesn't read).

The brightness of the fluorescent light of the train is hampering his vision, they are harsh and make the compartment unnecessarily intense, he thinks, keeping his eyes just low enough to see through the window and door glass opposite him.

It's 10 in the evening and he had a particularly busy and tiring day.

Ichigo picked out a seat in front of the train doors, and when it opens (five stops before his) she comes in haggard and tired and her kendo garments strapped on her back, her shoulders low and pale but still pretty look on her face. Today, a gray sundress, its hems just above her knee and slightly wrinkled, a dull day maybe, Ichigo assumes.

But the seat beside him is not taken, so he moves a bit to the side.

He had not expected to see her, after that robbery-of-his-wallet in the park. She and her polite demon pupils had said goodbye to him and she offered him a faint smile that told him: _see you around_.

Against himself, he smiles a little bit (meaning his mouth curves very slight: cutting and boyish)

"Hey," she says, something a little of a greeting, tired as she may be. She sits beside him and he smells a bit of jasmine and cream and faint…strawberry.

"We baked strawberry cake this afternoon –with the kids I mean." She offers, a small talk, blinking in his direction, Ichigo stays looking, "I ate half."

"But they smothered cream and sugar on my legs and arms. They are supposed to be well-behaved. Sugar and excitement and strawberries make kids _really_ manic. I can't believe I did not anticipate that! I should think of a lesson plan reinforcing a quiet behavior." She fiddles with her satchel bag. The train door dings and Ichigo briefly glances at the sign: two more stops before his, and three for her.

"Then there are newbies in the dojo today. A handful, they are." She continues, "I had to beat them into shape somehow."

 _Haha_ , Ichigo thinks, _serves you right_.

"Serves you right." He says quietly, a good humor.

She makes a face at him and raises her fist –a good humor, too.

She takes of her kendo garment straps and puts them on the floor, making the bulk lean on her legs.

They are silent the rest of the way and her head lulls to the side, watching the passing lights and rows of still lit houses. Outside, the clouds hang low, and the moon is big and round and a mirror.

Then: "Your stop," she hears him.

Rukia –sleepy and groggy- still manages to raise her eyebrows and ask simply, "you skipped yours?"

"Obviously." His mouth curves. (again: cutting and boyish)

He's standing by the door already, holding her garments (some are strapped on his back) and is gesturing for her to stand up and walk out.

He turns to her fully while keeping the door from closing. "What are you waiting for?"

Rukia thinks of _hello_ and _how are you?_ and _nice to meet you_ and _my name is_ , and how all of it sound perfunctory every day.

She stands up and walks out with him. "Thank you." She whispers quietly.


	8. Chapter 8

viii.

He takes short, little steps; she takes long, fast strides. It isn't an issue because her fast strides make up for his long legs and his "short little steps" aren't _exactly_ little by the normal standards –which she means is _her_ standard.

"You can give me back my stuff, you know…" Rukia trails quietly, yawning and maintaining her pace.

The air inside the train was cool, machine-cool, not breeze-cool, there was a mechanical tinge to it that did not suit her taste well. The open air at night, though, is worlds apart (kind of literal, too) like mint-water: fresh and cool. A little thought at the back of her mind: this is a good night.

There are only two steps between them, and the post lamps in her quiet neighborhood are dim but there are bright firebugs circling the lamps' bulbs.

"Hey, you can give me my stuff, I can carry them," she tells him a little louder, perhaps a bit too loud, there's a cat sleeping on the concrete edge of a house fence, it rears its head and stares beadily at Rukia.

They both stop walking; he inclines his head, turns to her, and says severely, "No."

(oh, thinks Rukia, this train-guy silently offers to walk her home, and as if her garments and him leading her out aren't indications enough)

There is something that _sucks_ about having delayed responses. Rukia just realizes now: how tall he is and how bright his hair is it's actually a wonder the firebugs haven't mistaken his head as a lamp post and how broad he is carrying her stuff easily and how _quite_ kind he is.

"Then," she answers quietly, offering a small (and tired) smile, "do you, _at least_ , know where you are going?"

The train guy looks around suddenly, past her and past the houses. Then his gaze lands back to her, his shoulders slightly slouching and he says, "Uhh shit, no."

"Daydreaming much?" she teases lightly, locking her hands behind her and turning her back from him, she says, "follow me."

(there's a spark in her eyes that Ichigo did not miss)

"What? No!" Ichigo readjusts her garment straps, and follows her, his steps a little bit cranky because of having been called out daydreaming.

(maybe he is)

A while later, the stop in front of an old-looking building block made of entirely of reddish bricks, there are large ceiling-to-floor windows installed and has a wooden, circular deck filled with potted plants of varying sizes, the gates are iron-wrought and Ichigo thinks if she's some kind of artists as well as there are canvasses out to dry on the deck. Their quality –he could not see.

"You live here?"

The girl, _Rukia_ , smirks, " _obviously_."

He hands her stuff back to her without a word, Rukia accepts gratefully.

She turns back and he turns back.

"Thank you, train guy-san," she calls, her hand on the steel doors.

He turns back and Rukia is surprised to see him scowling hard, and there's a slight blush.

He says loudly, "I am not a train guy, I am Kurosaki Ichigo."

"I would tell you my name," she says smirking at him, "but you already heard it. But it is nice knowing where I live, right?"

There's no longer a light blush on Ichigo's cheek.

"You're welcome!" She says before pushing her doors open.


	9. Chapter 9

oh. _i'm_ _confus_ –i didn't get to read the messages immediately. wrong upload wrong file i thought it synced nya nya nya nya nya –fixed.

ix.

 _Kurosaki Ichigo_ , Rukia supposes, is all college and _boy_ and backpacks and dark shirts and long strides: he has that I-don't-give-a-shit-what-the-hell feel in him.

So it's unusual to see him in an _adorably-cutesy-colorful_ bubble tea shop downtown. He wears a black beanie over his bright head; he's sitting hunched over a stool seat in front of the store front windows. He's sipping on a huge plastic glass. ( _ah_ , she figures, downtown close to the university: she kind of forgets that sometimes)

He scowls at people that way he scowls at the other passengers in the train whenever he "discreetly" listens to their talks. She catches him whenever his eyes do that "rolling" thing when people in close proximity to him say something he does not like.

Maybe, he's just really thirsty and there's no other option. _Maybe_ , there's another thought there, he's waiting for a girl. Something like that.

(because who can make a guy wait in a place like that?)

Lunch sets in a dry, cool weather that invites people to take a nice stroll outside, and Rukia returns to her newspaper. Midday and it's not too weird to read something remotely common like news _on_ paper, instead of staring at bright screens. There's coffee in front of her, cream and hazelnut, and a bagel.

Rukia's afternoon kindergarten class is not for another two hours, and she has no business going over his way. Maybe, a quick _hi_ would be enough if she runs across him. _If_.

(because going over to him without particular reason seems presumptuous and assuming and she does not want anything like that)

Over at Ichigo: " _Shit_."

He spots her in a coffee shop across from where the place he decides to relieve his thirst is, she wears an apple-green sundress today and seriously is that a dress code for the kindergarten class. She reads a newspaper, what the hell, is she that old?

He scowls and tries to keep his gaze elsewhere.

Damn fuck shit. It's cute and colorful and shit the whole place has fucking cute cartoon characters anthromorphic bunnies and cats and some weird alien-creatures girl thought cute.

And so he scowls harder.

(but their strawberry and honey milk tea is _really_ good so fuck the decors, he comes for the good stuff)

Maybe, walking her to her home had been a stretch too far and she kind of thinks he's a creep or whatever the fuck whatever the hell shit something like that.

 _Maybe_ , he thinks of another possibility, she waits for a boy. Something like that.

That stops Ichigo: he does not want to come off as presumptuous and creepy, so he considers avoiding the train for a while.


	10. Chapter 10

x.

 _Thinking_ about autumn and actually _seeing_ autumn are things she likes to alternate on doing. Both forms are healthy, _any way_ , for the imagination and eventually, for the hand and the canvass. (but there are cathartic heartbeats, gripping and momentous and shattering, and these heartbeats are what she needs to outline the veins of the canvass and her heart starts beating like an artist's heart)

Today's theme is autumn.

(and its crusty brown and green leaves and the steady golden sunlight and the tree stumps)

Teacher Rukia leads her kids back to the park-playground-mini forest where the kind Carrot-kun, _Ichigo_ , treated them ice-cream.

Today's subject is painting.

(and that roughly translates to her kindergarten class painting messily using their short fingers on canvasses and that she has to constantly remind them not to lick anything but there are cries of liquid colorful candies and mushy chocolates and then she thinks of her mini-military how they get easily excited and wild when expose to new things and really, she doesn't want to face an angry horde of parents because of poisoning)

Rukia sits leaning on one of the tree stumps, her kids are scattered within a small circle where she could see them. She ponders about autumn: thinks of its prettiness and the usual overused poetry that come with it.

Rukia makes sure her kids are all quietly occupied, none of them licking something before going back to her canvass.

What would the color of the first leaf be?

To a person with a standard view of things, a brown is a brown, simply darker or lighter. There is no thrill of distinguishing ocher from mahogany from russet from copper from amber. Choices are easier and life is simpler. Rukia does not quite know the feeling because ironically, had her days been fragments of a television drama show, she'd be the passerby in the background. Rukia goes with the pace of life.

There are no exposition and climaxes, linear and normal like everybody else. But that's where the perk of it comes from: she can be excited about little different things every day. Flower pots and croissant and summer orange juice; winter morning and warm jasmine tea and fireplace; but there are peaks, too; childbirth and funerals and weddings and meeting people-

 _-Oh_.

(she remembers bubble teas and trains and ice-creams)

Rukia draws the first leaf, and decides on amber.


	11. Chapter 11

xi.

An afternoon class is a real pain. Bad for health. Good for cutting-class excuses. The afternoon sun heat is abnormal and is a direct hit: slowly frying him in one bright, laser beam –as if his head wasn't bright enough, and the mirrors deflect nothing and they are supposed to be _anti-heat_.

And so Ichigo sits _seething_ (complete with curly smokes and hellfire aura) at the back of the classroom, yet he chooses to ignore all kinds of distraction –he's a grade A student or he likes to think he's a grade A student but his biochemistry demands so much of his attention. And Ichigo never ever ever daydreams.

Ichigo taps his pen on his opened book; there aren't many things to look forward to.

(it had been 8 weeks and 2 days)

Ichigo looks back at the professor, and tries to make sense of what he's saying. (or if he has sense at all; today's "professor" is a pompous student asked to step up in place of their real professor; Ichigo thinks he'll do a better job: that monotonous little shit)

(it had been 8 weeks and 2 days)

He catches glimpses of his life by the sunlight streaks. There aren't much things going on with him. Like stripes. Black and white. Day and night.

(it had been 8 weeks and 2 days)

Ichigo likes grapes now. He takes grape-flavored vitamins; picks a bottle of grape Gatorade; eats grapes, even the small and large elderly grapes mixed in a salad called raisins or prunes or something or whatever they look the same; wears grape-colored socks.

(it had been 8 weeks and 2 days)

Midterms passed through in a blur, and Ichigo stayed home to study and avoid places with huge crowds –like trains.

(it had been 8 weeks and 2 days)

He never did a Saturday errand run for Yuzu. He did it on Sunday evenings. He's a monster.

(it had been 8 weeks and 2 days)

He liked that flavored ice-pop. Karin bought a whole box and offered him some. That little monster.

(it had been 8 weeks and 2 days)

The thing of the present he tries so hard _not_ to think of: I'm-totally-not-into-her-don't-think-of-stupid-things-like-hell-I-would-be-I'm-not-daydreaming: it had been 8 weeks and 2 days.

* * *

you lovely people: guest2; guest; vine; fer; guest: many thanks. such wow.


	12. Chapter 12

slightly edited/added.

xii.

Ichigo has been daydreaming: standing straight and his hands in his jean pockets and backpack on his back.

The bus arrives at exactly 3:41 pm. A bit later than his usual train rides, and costs him more of his transportation allowance but that's all right, he thinks as he steps inside the platform and turns to find a seat and walks ahead, it's fine because busses don't make him look like a creep who happens to be around when she is too.

Then Rukia falls in his line of sight: a bit to the side, wearing a light denim sundress today and her hair in ponytail, sitting alone 3 benches before the last bench at the back of the bus. And he's 1 awkward step away.

(it had been 8 weeks and 2 days)

"Hey," she tells him quietly, offers a slight smile and looks away at the window. (casually, too, and too casual and casual as hell)

Ichigo, however, is waging conflict inside. He has options: the windows are wide open, a jump won't kill him; he could turn towards the entrance: jump: run like hell. (he's not ready he's not presumptuous is she even his friend yet)

But the seat beside her unoccupied. An invitation, maybe, as she moves her little satchel on her lap and fixes the sides of her dress so he could sit. Is this one of those _petty_ things hopeless teenagers worry about, he wonders sourly as he _wobbles_ on the empty seat, slouching and grouchily puts his backpack in front.

"Hey," he answers back softly, running a hand in his disheveled, bright hair. There are no other empty seat that is _not as_ awkward.

She doesn't say anything after that, then the quiet humming of the bus engines overtakes the silence.

"It's been 2 months. My kids thought you were chopped and cooked and eaten." She tells him after another stop, timid and light.

"Ahh, that's…" He scowls at the bad humor. "… _what_?"

But her reply is a smile, more pleasant than the previous ones he has seen. "You're a big carrot, remember?"

His face remains scowling, " _stop_." He tells her firmly.

The bus moves again, straight and uneventful. The road isn't so crowded at this time.

"I, _well_ , was busy." He offers after a moment.

She answers an audible, " _hm-mm_."

After three more stops, he speaks again, noticing the dried canvass leaning on her legs. "You like to draw…?" he does not mean it as a question, as it's too obvious.

Rukia says nothing but holds the canvass, showing it to him.

Ichigo scoffs. "You teach that in your class? Haha."

"Was this bad?"

Then his laugh falls flat, an echo.

She sounds… _she sounds_ …

Rukia, who wears a ponytail when he first saw her and thought she was tough, but is also small and softhearted, holds it down flat on her lap, tracing the uneven top where colors hardened.

"I…I thought of autumn and…" she defends diffidently.

Her eyes aren't as dark violet as he thought they are; they are clearer in the light. The afternoon sunshine is not as bad as he thought hours ago; they are shining on her and it's prettier than any autumn or spring or afternoon.

A heart beats.

" _Nah, it's all right_."

And there are things he doesn't quite know how to name yet but they are comparable to: the taste of apples; summer rain in the afternoon; starting a good book; late-night fireflies in the garden; lost stars.

(the quiet self-admission of his little crush went like this)


	13. Chapter 13

xiii.

It's Wednesday morning when the sun is barely out and the sky is a soft peach and has streaks of dark blue that he finally gets a glimpse of her morning routine.

Rukia enters the same coffee shop he had seen her reading a newspaper.

Ichigo happens to be there (only because the cutesy bubble tea shop won't be open until 10 am) because he needs a cup of coffee. Biochem exam today.

Ichigo hesitantly looks at her direction, (slightly surprised as he does not expect her that early). She wears the same white dress he first saw her with, but unlike the other days, she's wearing a backpack; probably a busy day as a teacher. Rukia, though, is sleepy-looking and her shoulders are slightly slumped.

He looks back at the counter right away, he's next to place his order, and no one is behind him. The barista goes on to ask him (and he's sure Rukia will see him).

"We see each other around a lot," Rukia breathes before him, poking him lightly on his shoulder.

"Oh you!" Ichigo feigns surprise (but comes off as a squeal and that he says it before actually turning to face her and it's super fake he hopes she won't notice) and then he turns slightly to regard her, "how –how are you?"

Rukia's eyebrows are raised, "I'm not following you, okay?" she tells him and her voice is strong and hard, but there's a playful smirk on her face.

"Of course." He answers and tries to sound nonchalant.

Minutes later, they are both standing at the bus stop directly opposite the coffee shop. The sun is fully out now, and the sky is slowly turning to a soothing shade of powder blue, and the sunlit surrounding goes about on its usual routine. Ichigo thinks it will be a good day.

"You take the bus?" Rukia inquires, a nice tilt of her head in his direction.

"Yeah. And I'll take the train later," he pauses, "…maybe."

(because truthfully, that still depends on certain things, what if the bus is better?)

"Ahh…" Rukia trails.

They stand in comfortable silence waiting and holding coffee and tea as hand-warmers.


	14. Chapter 14

xiv.

It had been a chance spotting it, really. And it was somewhat pretty, too. (no no no –at the back of his mind, it was really pretty)

Ichigo got home just five minutes ago. Dinner and all is ready.

Biochem was nailed and bagged and stupidly easy, but his heart pounded to a thousand beat because of that morning coffee. Does…does Rukia live constantly with a heart attack? Do her days require such a heavy dosage of maybe-I'll-kill-you-later drink?

(oh, can he now joke about basically everything around her?)

He felt a little disappointed cracking his head left and right in search of her earlier in the train compartment. He did not see her the rest of his day. It's fine, he thinks to himself morosely, _it's fine_. There are other days, and the world does not stop because he did not see her during the afternoon. ( _goddamn_ , he feels stupid, feels like one of the stupid boys in a shoujo manga)

And: boys are boys through and through and through.

(but the horrifying truth: boys are not exempt from silly, sweet things –though he'd like to take this little trinket to the grave with him)

Ichigo moves his chair and sits parallel to his desk. He rests his bag on his bed and takes a small brown box.

It's a snow globe, a dancing snow fairy in it surrounded by white and silver glitters and confetti, _it's very her_.

And it's probably a gift he'll never give her (because it's _soooo_ shoujo-y. _yuck_. eew.)

* * *

i'm not clear? 【・ヘ・?】

i have no plot, only a _situation_ : it's designed to free-flow naturally; it cannot be long because each chapter is set to happen within a 8.5-second to 5-minute frame; it centers on the little, quiet things.

(heh, this fruitcat deals with my everyday small musings)


	15. Chapter 15

xv.

"Ichi-nii, I don't know how to feel about you having a girlfriend. That must _really_ suck for her."

" _Shut up_." (there's some sort of warning there, but he's not sure if Karin gets it)

There's Karin and Ichigo on the dining table. Yuzu floats in and out the dining room, to and from the kitchen. Sunday lunch and the old man is away and so the kids are left to their devices.

" _Heh_ ," Karin drawls, and then smirks: a cutting-type of smirk only sisters teasing their brothers would know, like: I feed on your humiliation.

"Ichi-nii~!" Yuzu calls from kitchen. And Ichigo stands up to go and help her, sending a second warning glare to Karin.

There was an incident earlier today: about Sunday morning groceries; he and Karin running to the store to save Yuzu's peach pie; the larger but farther grocery store; and an unsuspecting Rukia on the candy and chocolate isle.

(he, too, was unsuspecting)

-and Karin finding the two together talking and her brother _actually_ grinning and looking positively livelier than the night before when he came home tired and grumpy and told them "the train was annoying and shit tonight, so many people."

-then becoming embarrassed when he noticed her staring at them, and there's a suspiciously-hesitant mumble of "Karin, my sister." (Karin feels like gutting him for that one)

The girl, though, is small and pretty, dark-haired and neat, speaks clearly and hard.

And she came on to Karin pleasant and warm, and Karin was reminded of violet tulips present during the winter (forced bloom or not, the effect was the same).

(while there's was an overcast of dark clouds on her brother)

It's easy to put one and one together in his case: her stupid brother has a crush.

"I'm surprised; she introduced herself to me without blushing and fiddling with her clothes, or looking shyly at you." Karin tells him when he gets back, he carries the whole of the peach pie. "At least, she's not the super-girly type. I like that."


	16. Chapter 16

xvi.

It's the New Year and Ichigo looks no less tall and no less _orange_ than he was last year – 5 hours ago.

Rukia sits on one of the benches inside the shrine, a cold apple tea can on her hand (and maybe she should have rethought her choice) and watches a family of four by the shrine – Ichigo's.

She's one of those few who come early to the shrine instead of lining hours before the New Year. Saves time. Practical.

Ichigo joins her as she's just about to pass the torii. (how he spotted her and how come his posture firmly suggested "I'll walk you home" she did not press)

They don't wear any of the traditional clothing. He's in his usual shirt and dark jeans and she's in a knee-length white coat – a dress underneath, probably. No one said hi, or happy new year, or how have you been.

"What do families wish for?" She asks him softly halfway the steps, thinking about him and his family. (she doesn't think it's an odd question)

Ichigo does not answer immediately, and waits until they reach the foot of the long stone steps.

The glow of early morning is anticipatory; something about waiting the whole night.

It's a bit dark when he stares pointedly at her. (he doesn't think it's an odd question)

"They…family – they wish for their loved ones' wishes to come true first."

"Oh-" Rukia briefly pauses, his answer is very telling, "of course, to ask _not_ for yourself first." It's an old idea, half existing in abstract, half existing in reality. Of kindness, of care – but it's for other people to figure out. There's Ichigo, already a kind boy, walking beside her. "And you?"

"Tch, I just wish for my dad's sanity to come back." He answers grumpily. His voice is quiet, like he's telling his family's best-kept secret.

Rukia remembered seeing a man imitating a gold fish: his arms flapping, his lips protruding and screeching as best as he could: "to the pond! To the pond!" Beside him a girl – whom she remembered as Karin – who looked _so fed up_ with life and reeking of murderous intent, and an unfamiliar straw-haired girl trying to placate the two.

"Your father?"

"What the fuck," says Ichigo, "I'm embarrassed for him. I mean – we don't like, I mean, we don't really do stuff…together. So umm, I am, uhh, kind of…not like him…so yeah…" then after a while, "sorry…" he says, hardly louder than a murmur. (he wishes for his family's wishes to come true, but he thinks his dad wishes to get crazier by the year)

But there isn't much truth in what he said, Rukia knows but remains quiet: the closeness within his family is already far beyond denial for him to attempt petty renouncing.

(a _hh_ , just what is it about " _cool guys_ " and reputations)

"You just spent New Year together," she states. Behind her, the houses begin to have thin outlines of peach and silver.

"Yeah, well…"

Rukia stops walking, "hey," she calls, and he stops walking and turns to her, "I think your dad is funny." She tells him seriously.

He shrugs, but when he turns, she sees a bit of curve on his lips.

"You?" Ichigo prods while waiting for the streetlights to turn (despite being 5:30 am without much cars on the street). "You wished for a few centimeters? Ya know, your height."

"I did not!" She turns sharply at him, a warning gleam on her eyes.

"Heh," he smirks at her. Good humor.

Not long after, they reach the last turn towards her house.

There's warm prickling on the side of her face, the sun half-risen and shines softly, more like butter yellow than liquid gold on the first day of the year. A good year?

Then Rukia invites Ichigo for coffee and light breakfast.

Her first kind gesture for the year –his, too, but it's the second time he walked her home. Perhaps, her rooftop would be more welcoming, the sunflowers have turned towards the sun, the bricks have been scrubbed clean, her laundry all folded, and there are new couches – set of violets and whites.

"Nah, I don't really like those caffeine murderers," Ichigo drawls, his shoulders relaxing a bit.

"Very well. Then I-"

"Unless – you have hot chocolate." He grins at her – very reminiscent of the brightness behind him.

She chuckles a bit, opens the door and enters, but leaves it open for him.

(actually: she wished for simpler things: her kids don't tear each other's face off; the traffic remains manageable; the stores don't run out of supply of Chappy-shaped cookies – or for Chappy to have episodes during weekend nights; _and if_ , for life to give her pauses when the heart needs stitching. also, new year is not over, she can still wish for a few centimeters)


	17. Chapter 17

**xvii**.

Strawberries are in season so Ichigo brings a grocery-bought basket (but fuller and bigger and redder; there were extra minutes spent on selecting the best group of berries, at one point, he might have counted the seeds on each berry) and a tub of cream on his way to Rukia's kindergarten class after his morning class.

"Are these for us?" Rukia meets him at the fence and flower bushes. Her hair up in a ponytail and she wears a yellow apron with an indeterminate pattern on the front.

"These are mine." A hard glare: _how dare you assume_? (yes yes of course, these are for them) Ichigo stands a meter from her, a pale gray shirt and jeans, backpack slung over his shoulder. "These are mine."

But Rukia deflects it, "of course not," and takes the basket, "is this cream yours, too?"

"Yes."

"Hmmn." A lopsided playful grin plays on her lips as snatches the tub as well, shouting a cheerful, "Thanks!"

It's true and hateful, he thinks helplessly, that one has to give offerings to the demons to enter their lair.

Ichigo invites himself over the kindergarten house. It is colored in pastels, and there are less cartoon characters than one would normally expect, instead, the stuff of intelligent kids.

Ichigo finds the steps leading to the door of good height, a good place to sit.

She comes back after few minutes, probably setting the strawberries inside, and bringing with her a tray filled with glasses and a small bowl of his berries.

"I thought you're teaching them how to bake?"

"That was last year, we're on engineering now." She tells him, handing him a white cat-shaped mug with pink outlines, he smells milk chocolate, and she hands him also a clear glass of water.

"It may be a little too sweet."

Ichigo nods, it's a kids' place after all, "uh-huh." (and one has to drink the blood of innocent slaves the young demons keep to earn their acceptance)

Rukia gestures to her kids building a misshapen bridge from Legos, and there is a chalk board stand with weight and height calculations. She looks back to Ichigo – who looks aghast – who looks at her.

"We're trying to learn the paradox of failure by building a bridge, you see." Then, "my kids are very bright." Rukia says proudly. Ichigo thinks she might be something of a fuhrer.

Ichigo places his backpack beside him, and takes a sip.

"What happened?"

When she sits down on the steps with him, she gives the sky above a quick survey: the sky itself the color of sparkling blue water, and then straightens her egg-yellow apron, on it a patch-work of various fabric and large stitches resembling a nuclear-victim bunny. Ichigo stares at it for a full minute, a nuclear-victim bunny and it's smiling, too. Grotesque.

"Hmn?"

(he means of course: new schedule; she doesn't use the train anymore)


	18. Chapter 18

a/n: thank you, guests.

 **xviii.**

"Oh, that?"

He takes this brief pause to look her way. The cat-mug in his hand is half-empty, but the aroma of chocolate and vanilla is hardly dissipating. Rukia is pulling flowers from the small bushes beside her, there's a faraway look on her face. The repose, he thinks, mirrors the burnished blue sky and the thin wisps of cloud.

(he counts 7th night: he's standing one of the few still waiting to board a half-empty train; he counts 14th night: this time, he tries the bus stop and the hour is too close to midnight; he counts 21st night: he tries the off chance of her walking to her home alone)

Rukia remains quiet and Ichigo remains observant. He feels it's the perfect time for her to say she secretly has leukemia, or dying from something equally dreadful like that, it's a doomed friendship or something like that-

Rukia gently nudges him to look ahead. Ichigo follows and remembers his speculation, and then he's face fell, the reason, it is-

"I have a new bicycle."

She tells him quietly, but there is a trace of mirth. "It's a great way to travel, honestly. Imagine the traffic we could save ourselves from if all of us would do this, but then, there would be a bicycle traffic jam and-"

Instead of answering, Ichigo reaches over the tray beside her and snatches the small bowls of strawberries and cream, and dumps the whole of cream on the berries, " _don't_."

"What?" Rukia follows his movements.

"Don't get one. I thought you were sick or something, so I thought…" Ichigo bends down, as if hogging all the berries, as if shielding the bowl from her reach. "…so I thought... you can't…these are all mine."

"Oh? Did you?"

A guy is concerned. Watching the first flower of the spring unfurling, or feeling the warm beach sands beneath bare feet – these are pleasant, each always having a spot on a girl's diary, _and boys_ , but Rukia maintains no diary, no thoughts such as _this_ stays for more than a minute in her head. But this, perhaps, _this_ , a guy is concerned.

"I bet you got that in the children's section. Can't ride the big, scary bikes, huh?" he says, nodding towards her bicycle, grouchy like hell and eyebrows furrowed, then starts eating the strawberries.

She's grateful, of course, he has come and is silly and is concerned. Rukia remembers his family, and the harsh – actually endearing - way he speaks of them over breakfast on her rooftop on the first day for the year, and his quiet little gesture of amiability towards her. One repays kindness with even greater kindness, Rukia supposes, it is common courtesy or on a deeper sense, simply being human. She teaches just that.

"Ichigo?" They are still stationary on the short steps of the front door. Rukia isn't sure how to phrase an invitation. "What do you think tsukimi udon? Or oyakodon? Or gyudon?"

"Heh, poached eggs, I don't like them uncooked on my broth. But rice is fine. Why?"

"Well," she starts to dust her bunny apron, "three streets from here, there is a-"

"All right, I'll come."

He cuts her, and hands her the bowl with only four strawberries remaining. (because leaving _three_ would be too presumptuous and indicative of something, because leaving _three_ is the same as baking heart-shaped cookies and giving it to someone with a not-so-subliminal message, and Ichigo still thinks this childlike displays of attraction are true, more so, giving them to a kindergarten teacher who could interpret them as such)

" _Ah…_ "

Rukia looks at the bowl, takes it, and then says a low, "thank you."

"Wait, does this mean you agree-?" Rukia turns to him, carefully picking a berry.

"Yeah, yeah-" Ichigo grumbles – or something resembling a grunt.

Rukia stops after that, fondly observing her kids move about and pull pieces and break pieces and make pieces, a slight smile is playing on her lips, but it is not wholly because of her kids playing nor does it because the sky is still blue.

Some time later:

("Don't tell me you made that shit-faced mutant bunny apron, Rukia?"

"You…just said…what?")


	19. Chapter 19

**xix.**

It's 8 pm, and a rerun of Chappy episode plays on a small tv set. Rukia wears pajama and stands by the walkway of her apartment adjoining the living room and kitchen while brushing her teeth and watching Chappy.

Chappy is teaching a bunch of smaller chappies to solve math problems using carrot-shaped cookies.

Then Chappy looks straight and the camera slowly zooms in on its smiling face and Rukia hears a cookie snapping sound effect.

 _Oh!_

.

.

.

With something similar to approaching boredom while watching the half-empty road and waiting for the bus at half past 3 pm on a very clear afternoon and seeing two bicycles racing each other, Ichigo remembers: Rukia was _shit_ in riding a bicycle.

(Ichigo held the left handle of her purple bicycle, and guided her way through turns and corners. She was, as Ichigo remembered, terribly slow and unsteady until he towed her and her bike grumpily asking her to: "just point me to the damn place." And he asked, of course: "why the fuck do you even have that _thing_?" as her ability to ride it and her choice of it were a blatant insult to the efficiency of public transportation that _he_ rode regularly. She answered flatly and coldly: "Chappy rides this bicycle on her way to the smaller chappies' kinder school.")

Ichigo settles on the bench, his backpack beside him, and a limp notebook opened on top of his left leg.

Rukia made good of her invitation. A bowl of moon-viewing udon and brown soup with spring onions and katsudon. There were arguments about who's getting the raw egg. But Ichigo regretted only one thing: eating chocolate ice cream when she offered dessert after _which_ she got a good look at – so _un_ badass. He should have chosen chili-mint or something.

However, a quick glance to the side and he catches a glimpse of Rukia riding her bike a bit and wearing a brim hat quite far from him, she's _very_ _slowly_ _wobbling_ from the direction of the convenience store. On her basket are small packets and bottles of indeterminate stuff he could not place.

Ichigo quickly assesses her surroundings in anticipation of a very possible crash. When nothing comes up, he settles with watching her instead. After all, how could she learn if she doesn't practice? She seems to be managing her path well. His hawkish stare stays with her until she disappears to a corner, eyes lingering still and ears straining for a sound of a crash. When none came, Ichigo looks back on the road, and not longer than a minute, he hears the familiar quiet hum of an engine and a bus pulls a stop in front. He steps inside and heads home.

 _("we are… friends?" and an answer: "this isn't a date, is it?")_

"What an idiot…"

.

.

.

Rukia unsteadily pedals her bicycle: a bit too the side, then veering left, too much, a sharp jerk to the right, but too much again, veering left again. It's a clear day, powder-blue and wispy white overhead with no sign of downpour, still, it warrants a brim hat and shorts and white buttoned-up, rolled-up long sleeve too large for her.

"WHY HELLO THERE, LITTLE FLOWER!"

Some kind of booming voice erupts from her right side. Rukia continues on, vaguely looking at the direction where the voice came from, but seeing particularly nothing out of ordinary.

"WE MEET AGAIN, HOW VERY LOVELY!"

Rukia hits break as a bearded man grins too close to her, eyebrows wiggling suggestively. How he got there, she doesn't know how to explain.

"Oh? me? I suppose I should know-" Rukia starts, wondering where she could have met such a loud man.

"You are very pretty!" Booms the bearded, dark-haired man, clapping.

"So, after the considerable time you've spent with him – or him stalking you - how would you like to be my son's girlfriend?"

What. "E-excuse me? I - I mean I don't even know- wait, you just can't ask anyone that-!"

"This isn't refusal I hear. Very good!" beams the bearded man wearing a simple shirt and pants.

"Oh wait wait, you must have mistaken me-" Quite frankly, Rukia does not know how to react.

"My apologies are in order, my son does not quite know how to say " _I like you_." The man laughs, loud and boisterous but strangely full of fondness. He is very animated in gesture. "But he is so papa has to make the moves for him, you know, much needed intervention if you please – and please don't take that differently - if I don't do something, I'll never see grandchildren!" he puts on a mock distressed tone, then just as quick, his reaction changed, "but you are pretty! I think your genes would be good addition to our little family."

Just as when Rukia is about to answer something logical and polite, somebody yells from behind her. "Dad!"

"Oh, that's my baby girl calling!" The bearded-man waves to someone from behind Rukia, on his face a very huge grin.

"I am accompanying my baby girl to her grocery trip. She cooks very well. I suppose she got that from her beautiful mama, she just went back to buy chocolates. Oh deary me, who knows what wrath my son will demonstrate if we forget his favorite chocolate!"

True enough, Rukia sees a straw-haired girl running to their direction from afar. Rukia thinks the straw-haired girl might be a bit familiar.

"Ne, come back when you have time and let us chat, share some food, and get to know my son more." He puts both of his hands on her shoulder. "I'll bring the shy idiot with me, but I have to convince him first parents meeting girlfriends are fine and safe and not really embarrassing!"

"But I'm not anyone's girlfriend." Rukia says weakly.

"That's really good to hear!" He gives her a double thumbs up, and a toothy grin.

Oh. Rukia thinks. This man is very energetic. What a big stage father. His children might be in their teens. And that's probably a big nightmare.

Before the bearded-man goes to meet his daughter halfway, he winks at her: "You can always find me here, among the little flowers in this sidewalk, Rukia-chan!"

Against reason, Rukia smiles and waves, and then continues to pedal her bicycle, slowly wobbling towards the direction of her apartment thinking: what a bizarre and funny man.

.

.

.

"I'm going out with Chad. Do you need something, Yuzu?"

"Oh nothing, Ichi-nii. Dad accompanied me to the store." Yuzu answers cheerfully, glancing at her brother by the door _who_ is bright-eyed and colorful.

"Karin?"

"Chips and soda."

"Got it." A quick nod to her and he leaves.

"What's wrong with Ichi-nii?" Yuzu wonders quietly to her sister, going about her baking stuff. "He seems to be a bit…chipper."

"Heh… don't worry, Yuzu," drawls Karin absently, fingers vigorously pressing her controller and eyes not leaving her video game, " _she's_ a bit alright…I guess."

Confused at Karin for addressing their brother with _she_ , Yuzu looks at her sister from the kitchen counter, holding a whisk midair, "who?"

* * *

a/n: hope you know/remember c. leshay, lovely lovely lovely writer from the glory days of 2008, few lines were a nod to her.


	20. Chapter 20

a/n: （・_・）？

xx.

Rukia remembers in fond memory, while observing a group of teenage boys pass by her apartment: Ichigo… he seems to… Ichigo seems to walk in _swagger_ : a slight arch of his back, light and moderate steps, hands inside his pocket. There's an element to his walk, a certain tension present on his shoulders that seems to say: I'm badass, getouttamyway. Man-boy, or the other way around, _boy-man –_ something those lanky teenagers lacked. _Lacked_ , like having mean eyes. Or rough grace. Or schadenfreude-laced smirk for his fellow commuters in the train when they trip over something on their way out.

Posture studies, like night studies, require much patience to use in observation, but unlike night studies, they do not dwell on abstraction and immaterial forms, there are hard lines and curves to follow. Ichigo is well-built for his age, tall boy with good shoulders, but Rukia finds his walk and posture the hardest to draw.

Rukia is comfortably perched on her open balcony – its curtains thin and white and sashaying. She is sitting cross-legged and relaxed, there are crumpled papers and sketches scattered around her, and she holds a sharpened pencil on hand, attempting to draw many things, people – her kindergarten kids, Ichigo, a memory of a boy peering to a girl in a sunny-bathed library, postures, cute stuff – fluffy bunnies and carrot cookies and kitties taking a catnap, her older neighbor attending to her herb garden, those that are sublime and don't need the brightest colors to thrum positively with life.

Ichigo, of course, proves to be the hardest to draw on paper.

Rukia puts down her pencil, trying to figure out the conflict on what degree his forearms should be angled at. She tucks a bang to her ear, and takes in the lazy afternoon from the balcony view overlooking her apartment and the easy breezes accompanying it. The weather turns pleasant from a soggy morning. There's something satisfying about the way the sun shines mildly, melancholic, quiet, sad, _sad_ , but heartwarmingly pleasant. The only flicker of cold and fresh is a glass of iced tea and a plate of sliced green apples beside her, everything else is warm and honey-layered.

In the beginning, there weren't much exchanges, words were limited to two or three but these were conversations enough. Also in the beginning, their brief encounters meant more because she learned more about him when he's silent than him being verbally active. It is – she dares to say – a friendship deeply rooted on quiet understanding and meaningful exchanges and hushed concerns. Is it – she dares to ask – any less from the perfunctory way people make friends: hi, hello, nice to meet you. But more than that, the boy – _boy_ , because he's 19 and she's older – the boy, though, has more things in mind than friendship. _That_ , she is quite positive.

After taking a final look on the disappearing teenagers, Rukia gets back to tracing lines, wondering if the degree of Ichigo's forearm angle could be resolved in another day.


	21. Chapter 21

**xxi.**

There is a buzz at his university; sort of exciting and stirring and _dreamy_ ( _tch, girls_ ) and it floods the hallways and some parts of the university field during free hours.

Probably a gossip, but Ichigo doesn't linger long enough to listen, and he doesn't care enough to even consider listening.

Apart from pretending to be nonchalant about life outside school hours, his little crush, his family, a small group of close friends – his attention to everything else is very fractured. Much so: university gossips have no hold on his attention.

But this one is persistent and when he finally caught wind of it, accidentally hearing it from two passing girls, he casually (meaning: _answer-or-not-i-actually-don't-care)_ asks Keigo – who looks strangely grumpy and strangely quiet and strangely unenergetic beside him. Both of them waiting to cross the road.

"Dr. Kuchiki who?"

Keigo's eyes flashes then narrows, a strange mix of envy and veneration before bitterly answering, "Ph.D., new professor or something, I dunno, stuff like that." Stuff Ichigo positively doesn't care about. Right. Of course.

"Ahh," Ichigo shrugs, shoulders relaxing slowly, then turns away – disinterested, and takes a long survey of the sky and sees clumps of fat gray clouds looming closer. He decides to head home right before the first drop hits the ground. "Ahh…"

Another second and his attention is elsewhere. He briefly wonders if Yuzu would ask him to run grocery errand today, if Karin got home from her afternoon practice, and if Rukia has an umbrella with her-

But Keigo interrupts loudly, who obviously took the matter to heart, "Girls are weird. They like him already! The guy is _grossly_ _old_ but looks so young. A pretty boy! I bet he drank several virgins' blood!" He continues to wail. "I - _we_ have him actually, tomorrow morning at 7 am. At 7 freaking am! He demanded that, ya know! What the fuck, right? I'm probably still jacking off in the showers. I'll turn up in my pajamas as a protest!"

Just before the streetlight turns green, Ichigo, wearing a look of an obvious exasperation, tells him: "Keigo, you're an idiot."

* * *

a/n: guest, guest2, guest, guest: still being lovely, thank you. angie, i'll probably tell when you're not expecting it.

hopelessromantic: ahh, there's a korean resto in katipunan ave i love, i liked their plum tea too much – i named myself plum.


	22. Chapter 22

**xxii.**

Rukia is stuck inside a library-café. The early evening sky had turned a mean shade of dark grey, in contrast to the cool blue of the afternoon _when_ she walked into the library-café looking decidedly cheerful in a light, short yellow sundress and blue flats.

Rukia heaves a sigh, the droplets are plump and heavy on the ground, it would be very troublesome for any attempts to travel without a sturdy protection. Normally, Rukia would not care: running aim for the bus top or train station while it rains – she fought under tougher downpours before and waded through mini floods to get home. But there is her bicycle to consider, it is parked beside the cafe few paces from her, shiny and gleaming and purple, she cannot possibly ride it. _No no no_ , she thinks to herself resolutely, she isn't as cruel, Chappy the Purple Bike won't have that. Rukia heaves a sigh again. She can't go home just yet.

"All right," she says softly, turning from the windows and setting one hand below her chin, looking at the antiquated café and contemplative of many things. Her matcha latte stirs warmly on the table beside her hand, and the faint lightbulbs provide a strange warmness over the power-driven cold of the air conditioners. There are few people inside the place, mostly female students in a small group and couples and – counting Rukia in – five lone individuals.

Rukia had brought lessons with her and a full-battery laptop and her reference books to draw up her lesson plans for the new month. And in the middle of a listing the pros and cons of both sides from steep competition between the subjects of the areas of Geometric triangles and the Miyabi aesthetic of philosophy, she accidentally overhears the group of female students arguing and giggling about the latest stories of various handsome oppa and striking senpai-

There really is something irresolute and foreign and silly about it, Rukia thinks, amused. About teenagers and admirations.

She admires from afar, but not the sort of fondness for a celebrity or a senpai, but more of genuine admiration because of one's work and character – for instance, her brother.

Rukia is twenty-six and there's hardly something to giggle about in her age (but still not too old to not giggle). In her teenage years, Rukia already preferred and understood more of Sei Shonagon and Murasaki Shikibu and Ono no Komachi – older, centuries and centuries ago but they knew grace, and were mature, and looked at the world and relations with remarkable views and interpretations – and she thought of giggling as for hearts still soft for fairy tales, carefree and happy, eyes hopeful for a lovely ending, exultant. Perhaps, it was because the Kuchiki private archive had always been impressive in its collection of classical literatures, Rukia was first exposed to and never lacked in such materials.

She supposes, while looking fondly at the group of girls, she supposes, what an exhilarating feeling it must be, to dream and talk about confessions and melodrama and weddings in sunset on the beach, silly _silly_ things and so youthful and very carefree.

.

.

.

A bit later, the rain still pounding, her phone buzzes and an unregistered number sent her a message, and it prompts her to look outside, past the rain, and look for "an obviously extremely expensive black car and a ridiculously badass motorcycle" (yo, _look outside_ – it messaged again) which she does after a beat, and then: _oh!_ A pleasant surprise _._


	23. Chapter 23

**xxiii.**

A fourth globe joined Ichigo's unlikely collection of snow globes of various sizes and designs. All of them inside his closet, topmost and hidden from view by his blankets and cushions. They are all white-themed, glittered and elegant.

The fourth one is bigger, the round glass thicker and clearer, and the silver and white glitters are mixed by bits of violet tulip petals and in the inside base of the glass globe stands a miniature post lamp and wooden bench where a miniature man holding a bouquet of violet tulip sits. It's about waiting, the seller said, a curiosity it is that if it's about waiting, instead of putting a reasonable miniature street clock beside the bench, the maker decided on a post lamp. Makes you feel, the seller added, handing him the box.

The globe came unexpected because just as he wondered from the crossing earlier with Keigo, Yuzu would ask him for a sudden and late and apologetic grocery errand request for breakfast. And so two hours later, Ichigo found himself carrying small baskets of blueberries and mangosteen for pancakes, and a carton of milk and almond oats. And by chance, he spotted the snow globe in an open display for sale outside a vintage store – lone and twinkling, surrounded by figurine ginger houses and rustic candelabra and old fabric carnations – just like the miniature scene it has inside. He bought the globe, his hands half-flinching at the price tag, but took it to the counter nonetheless.

When he arrived back at his street, the entirety of his neighborhood kept to their houses, most had probably gone to early sleep, and back at his own house, the night lights outside are switched on and he found Yuzu, who sleepily waited for him outside. The rain, then, had stopped, and the after-night rains were just like very early mornings – some things about them are anticipatory and relieving. Ichigo sat with Yuzu for a few quiet minutes, until she woke up and he and his sister entered the house together.

His digital clock reads 10:00 pm. Ichigo himself changed to a fresh set of shirt and pajama, ready for the bed. He steals a peek in the direction of his window, his curtains are drawn together and there is barely a faint glow coming from the street, the moon must be clouded tonight.

The miniature post lamp inside the snow globe actually works (was the cause of the significant increase in its price), a small battery socket was built on its exterior base and Ichigo found and fitted a battery inside, the little bulb of the mini post lamp then glows softly inside his room, center and atop his study desk.

Ichigo sits on his chair backwards, its back support on his front where he folds his arms and rests his head, observing the softly glowing mini post lamp, a warm, damp towel hanging from his head.

Ichigo's heart grows steady at the silence and stillness and the monochrome of dark and grey in his room.

Also by chance, he saw Rukia earlier – in a startling yellow dress meant more for an afternoon frolicking on summer grass and wind than sitting inside a dim café on a rainy evening, very gloomy – inside a cafe, one moment looking worried about something, the next, listening and watching a group of girls beside her table, a hand brought to the underside of her chin, looking very fond, and a light smile – a pleasant curve of her lips – turned to the group of giggling girls.

(actually, there is something telling about it, he can't put it into words yet)

He meant to say hello, then be gone. Nothing more than a friendly greeting. Too much run-in. Karakura is small, it isn't his fault, but it isn't the town's either. But some things are just ought to be outright unavoidable, the same bus stop, the same train station, the same café, the same street. Ichigo continued walking, past a just-parked black car and a motorcycle opposite the cafe, in the middle of the bright and rainy streets, amongst the milling people. Ichigo decided not to trouble her, decided not to interrupt whatever conversation made her smile.

.

.

.

"Lookin' very badass, yeah?"

A moment, " _yes_." Rukia answers sincerely. Her friend, Renji, booms and flails in front of her. He joins her inside, and sits with her. Bright in red hair, and intimidating in dark leather clothes. He points to his black motorcycle outside.

"It better be! Nine months' worth of salary!" he continues coarsely, grinning a wide goofy grin – very Renji-like, "it's like giving birth."

"You'd think, working for the Kuchiki family would make me rich," there's a pause, and Rukia leans in, "…it will make me rich actually. But this bad boy is just too damn badass to pass up."

"You and your smart investments. You broke your sunglasses before. Sunglasses. What was it again? Six months' worth of your pay?" Rukia says, a lecture forming on her mind. Her latte cup almost empty.

"Yeah. It was a great investment, too. And nah, don't go lecturing me now. Your brother is waiting outside."


	24. Chapter 24

xxiv.

"– there must be some special training academy for assholes abroad!" Keigo wails at Ichigo, they are walking out of the university. It's 4 pm and the sunrays are still burning orange.

"Girls described his eyes as 'grayer than British skies' what the fuck," Keigo continues disgruntledly, like when he first learned the news.

Ichigo, of course, didn't saw and didn't know and didn't care. The impressive Dr. Kuchiki – all airbrushed and suit up – didn't make much of an impression to him, so there's not much he can recall from his class earlier.

Ichigo owes Keigo a bowl of ramen or a sake in commiseration for his stupid but brave stunt: the idiot did turn up wearing his pajamas as a protest to the 7 am class.

Unfortunately, Dr. Kuchiki does not take to petty baits, but Keigo is the type to give them. Dr. Kuchiki – it turns out – bought the _entire_ university and is the incoming chancellor. He took classes only to 'scrutinize and assess' worthy students first hand. Naturally, Dr. Kuchiki gave Keigo an automatic failure after a single, half-a-second glance.

"I'm better off at NUS, ya know in Singapore? My parents were telling me I have a huge shot at-" Keigo scoffs, dejected, he failed aesthetics and philosophy.

"You'll never get into NUS, Keigo, you only made it here because you're were bullshitting the kind old admission head with a goddamn sob story," Ichigo says but tapered, "I almost socked you."

They are heading towards Keigo's favorite sleazy ramen stand.

Ichigo suspects the esteemed, no-nonsense Ph.D guy won't stay for long teaching a class of scrappy uni students, there'll be investors and course expansions he'll launch and attend to – which heavy-named guys like him are so into.

Actually, Ichigo could not recall a single word spoken out of his 7 am class, he thought the entire class had been an exercise in silence.

Dr. Kuchiki communicates with his posture, Ichigo kind of does it too, but Ph.D guy is more accomplished, an expert, seamless in conveying how high-strung he is.

He has an assistant, female, he couldn't remember her name nor the incoming chancellor's first name. But she follows him, behind him always, tapping something on her tablet and is very attuned to black-haired big shot.

Dr. Kuchiki did not stay more than 20 minutes in their classroom, he did, however, approached – or hovered – in each student's desk, like a hawk sizing its prey. On him, Dr. Kuchiki hovered and wore the same glare he gave Ishida – the boring top student, and Keigo.

Prim Dr. Kuchiki overtook a class from a senior professor who was a drunkard and steely-balled and cool as fuck.

Ichigo didn't like Dr. Kuchiki very much, but he's not entirely against him. It's safe to say Ichigo didn't care much about Dr. Kuchiki, on every level.


	25. Chapter 25

xxv.

Class has ended. Ichigo is not very far from his college building, down the marble stone steps and a few meters off it when a small stone hit his left leg, he turns around furiously, halfway mounting a curse and half expecting Keigo to be fooling around.

Instead, he sees Rukia sitting idle on the steps of his college building, looking pointedly at him.

She shows him two more small stones, and threatens to throw the second one.

It was natural, the way he turns towards her. "What?" He mouths, raising a hand - a clueless gesture.

Ichigo remembers Rukia teaches kendo during the afternoon, and her prep school started days ago which means she should be busy and not here.

Rukia flicks at him another small stone, hitting his right leg this time.

"Hey, stop that!" Ichigo starts shuffling towards her, forgetting that swift, smooth gait he uses whenever he's in public.

"Oi, where's your kendo stuff?" he asks her equally pointedly when he gets into a comfortable talking distance, "and what are you doing here?"

"I couldn't get your attention, you look at a straight line and walks the same line and scowl so much," Rukia comments, shaking her head.

"You scare people too easily," she tells him light heartedly with a hint of little laugh, as if she finds it amusing.

But Ichigo brushes it aside and admits to her, "that's the idea." He looks over his shoulder then back at her.

Today, she's a contrast to the dark green leafy vegetation and tall trees around his college building, today's a blossom-colored dress and her hair tied in yellow ribbon, the same stubborn bang between her eyes.

She fits well, sitting on the white marble steps of his college building, looking carefree. Her purple bike nowhere in sight.

It is warm, already three thirty in the afternoon but he still couldn't look at the sky without being blinded, but the trees shade them well.

Few students run past them, some of them taking their umbrellas out, before remembering why he approached her.

"What is it?" He asks again, unconsciously putting his hands in his pocket.

He's sure she sought him out not just to throw stones at him.

"What?" Ichigo isn't very fond of guesswork.

"Oh, of course!" Rukia leans down on her bag as she search for something. Then she hands him a folded paper of sort - a card.

"What's this?" He takes the coloured card.

Rukia is sneering at him, it is an impressive sneer, Ichigo notes, chilly and splattered prettily on her face, as if an hour of blue skies before storm falls.

"Invitation," she answers coolly.

'To?"

There are tiny, colorful fingerprints on the folded card - watercolors, and on closer inspection, some of the colors are staining Rukia's dress and arms. Ichigo looks at the finger prints on her dress, and on the card itself, and then on her hands - where colors have faded, watered down to pastel.

"For you, silly," she tells him proudly, "it wasn't my idea though, my kids like you. You brought them strawberries and treated them ice cream, remember?"

Ichigo tries not to snicker at that, ah, yes, sacrificial offerings for the devils and their queen.

He reads the card, sees horrible drawings and intermingling messages because the writings were big. The messages are incoherent - kids, written by kids, ranging from please come, carrot-kun to I command you to build our props!

Ichigo reads, "The Hop-Loving Bunny and Her Carrot Subjects Versus Zombie Pumpkins: First Chapter…huh?"

"Sounds catchy, right? It's an original. I wrote it myself."

He flips it over and sees boxed illustrations trying to chronically tell a story, bunny-fied carrots and devil-horned pumpkins trying to massacre each other were drawn from box to box.

"We are studying theatrics, we would like you to build us a mini theater stage, and set up the lights and music and all, we want you to make our school backyard look like a mini high school festival, and of course, be the guest of honor," Rukia tells him seriously,

"What?"

"The idea is that pumpkins are mutant carrots and they are bad; they are originally carrots which ate other carrots that's why they expanded and hardened - mutants - and became horned-monsters themselves, and the Queen Bunny is just trying to defend her royal subjects from-"

"What? - no, don't tell me you're the queen bunny?" He asks her incredulously, no, no, no.

"No, of course." But Ichigo doesn't believe it. He looks at the invitation, all of her monsters signed the paper, and her included as their teacher.

Ichigo focuses on the bunny-fied (and the tallest) carrot leading the charge against an army of pumpkins, the poor carrot looks very familiar, he holds a katana and is scowling at the pumpkins but is oddly wearing a black backpack: what the fuck.

Ichigo looks at his own black backpack.

"It has a twist!" Rukia promises, and by this time, she is already standing right in front of him.

Ichigo tries to refocus on the invitation and what it meant for him, humiliation, and well, it's not like he will act in her silly and logic-less storytelling session, more like be the props-man.

"Wait, 'we want you to' is that what you said?"

"Yes. What do you think?" Rukia's eyes were wide. Strange, strange girl-teacher.

But Ichigo can only think of one thing; he deadpans, "no way, burn this instead."

(but he's still clutching the invitation)

Rukia, however, smiles.

* * *

a/n: thank you, hopelessromantic


	26. Chapter 26

xxvi.

"How did you get in my building?" Ichigo remembers asking her. They are standing in a bus stop waiting for the 5:21 pm bus. Rukia did not bring her bike with her, so Ichigo accompanied her out of the compound.

"My brother works in your university," she says, trailing. "Is why I got a pass, I told the ID guys that," she tells him.

Ichigo pauses, _oh_ , a heavy pressure has settled unexpectedly in his chest.

He turns to her fully then asks seriously, "do I know him?"

They are not alone in the bus stop, several students have lined up to wait for the vehicle. Ichigo, so, so dense in color in his black pants and gray shirt, stands beside Rukia, the watercolor stains on her light pink dress more prominent against the setting sun.

Rukia considers for a moment, "no, probably not, he's very new, he just told me the other day actually."

His eyes are alight with something; he's tensed, Rukia notices.

After a long moment, "yeah, probably not." Ichigo agrees, but suspicious nonetheless.

He won't ask _who_ , because that's suspicious. But still, Rukia _with_ a brother?

His thoughts go back to his sisters, Yuzu and Karin, and bloody pulps and powdered bones and pulled muscles and Rukia with a brother?

When she looks away, he looks sideways - on all sides of the street, as of searching for a pair of eyes tracking them.


	27. Chapter 27

xxvii.

Rukia is a loyal patron of a book and supply store in the town. She usually visits the small but lively and colorful store after her pre-school classes to get colorful papers and glitter glue for her kids to mess with.

(more importantly, to get herself some extremely limited edition of daily Chappy stationary and stamps and envelopes)

\- to which, currently - the Chappy stamps and papers _and_ envelopes - are out of supply. The kids' glitter glues, mod podges, papers, felts, and a sketchbook (for Ichigo to be used in his theater design for their pre-school) are all within her shopping basket.

So Rukia stands opposite the paper aisle, seriously contemplating the lost of Chappy's paper merchandises, very seriously thinking how could the staff not notice how fast-selling the papers are. The paper pads have individualized designs printed and sold everyday, she could _not_ \- for the life of her - miss _one_ design _ever_.

When she went the extra length and pestered an assistant, she was cheerfully told they just sold the last Chappy paper pad design for the day: better luck tomorrow, dear, these daily bunny paper pads sell fast like cocaine, she was told.

Back at the paper aisle, Rukia decides she is not very fond of birds, or otters or ferrets - they will simply not do to substitute for cute-faced rabbits. It turns out, rabbit-themed papers are much, much popular towards middle school girls - one academy, actually, is just around the corner.

Down-spirited, Rukia turns back but not before taking a Chappy-headed pen from a display, she pays for her supplies, then left the store.

Rukia takes out the themed-pen and sticks it in one of the outside pockets, as if Chappy waving at people.

.

.

.

Just a day after extorting Ichigo's help, she begins to plan for the play and and since she forced Ichigo to agree to visit her class the next day to do some planning, she thought she'll bake him a peach pie (with mangoes and almonds).

As such, Rukia is standing in front of the fruit seller in the market, who was handing her the last kilo of peaches for the day, thinking wistfully, still, she got peaches.

Thanking the kindly old woman, Rukia - in jasmine-printed dress - begins to turns away. As she does, however, she hears the seller: "I'm sorry, Yuzu-chan, the last pieces just got sold."

Then, a familiar, girly, _down-spirited_ voice answers back, "Oh no, I promised Karin-chan, Ichi-nii that I'll make fruit pies for dessert!"

Rukia stops midstep then looks over at the girl, internally debates about going home with a full bag of vibrant peaches against a girl - one who promises some people some dessert, then Ichigo.

The girl - straw-haired and familiar and wearing a school uniform - looks over at her, too, then at her bag filled with the fruit.

"Oh, sorry." The girl says, and Rukia thinks she might have heard her voice once.

"You need this, you said?" Rukia asks then offers the girl the fruits, smiling kindly.

"Oh, no! No!" The girl holds her hands away, and smiles apologetically, "I didn't mean that, miss, I'm sorry to impose."

But Rukia, knows all too well, takes the girl's hand and hands her the bag anyway - just as easily. Ichigo will have to wait for a while for the initial thank-you pie, she thinks.

"No, no, miss!" the girl - Yuzu - tries to give Rukia back the bag, terribly, terribly sorry for imposing. But the miss, who is terribly kind, too, is retreating, has left the bag on her hands in which she see, full of brightly-colored, tender peaches - and then thinks about her family, and looks over at the miss and sees a small, dangling, keychain from her backpack, and a rabbit-headed pen poking from one of the back pockets.

"Oh!" Yuzu hurriedly takes out the Chappy-themed paper pad she bought earlier, and runs to the miss, tapping her lightly on the shoulders, noting she has pretty hair against the sunlight, like in those _Shiseido_ shampoo commercials, when a model turns her head with one big swoop of thick, shiny, glittering hair - but of course, the miss doesn't turn like that.

The miss, though short like her, turns slowly and Yuzu likes it that the miss looks kinder up close, her eyes the color of violet tulips on a winter morning.

"Oh! Please accept this instead! Please! I hope you don't have the design, they kind of print new designs daily," Yuzu tells her, bowing and handing her the paper pad, "this is the new one for today. I - I kind of notice you have a Chappy keychain and pen, so I thought -"

Rukia's eyes, however, widen, her mouth forming an O.

.

.

.

"Karin! Oh, I was being forgetful today, " Yuzu tells her sister during the evening, transferring the newly-baked peach-mango pie to a plate, "I forgot to buy groceries first, by the time I got to the fruit stand, peaches are all gone! Luckily, a lady gave me hers..."

"She was nice, so I gave her my Chappy stationary in return! She's a fan, too! I wouldn't know if it weren't for the keychain and pen!"

"Yeah?" Karin drawls, sitting on the stool and peeling off the skin from the leftover peach. She and her brother think that specific stationary is a scratch paper; they make crumpled paper balls out of it and throw them at each other while Yuzu is out shopping for groceries.

"Pshh," Ichigo grunts, appearing from the living room, and taking a slice of peach pie, "did you say Chappy? I hate that cartoon bunny very much."

* * *

vine: yes, yes, you did, but you first said i was worth waiting for, i think, in death in bloom, in 2013. thank you.

gin: thank you for the multiple reviews.


	28. Chapter 28

xxviii

"Ichigo," he hears, and then, "you've come!"

Ichigo, idle on the sidewalk, looks up. He has stopped 2 meters off Rukia's kinder school block, contemplating if he is actually to go along with her mini-theatrics.

 _Too late_. Rukia herself is waving at him from her school yard wooden fence. She wears that mutant bunny apron beneath an apple-green sundress.

So Ichigo slumps on her direction, dragging his feet. No choice, he thinks. It's props day, then.

(but it's really no question to begin with: he brings with him his father's toolbox anyway)

Rukia rushes to meet Ichigo by the bush archway, opening the white fence for him.

"You've come," she says again, pleased. Inviting him in, she steps aside to make room for him as he briskly enters. She wears a white brim hat, too - must be an outdoor lesson today, and a pretty grin.

"Pssh, who comes willing to do slave labor? I didn't want to, okay, _really_ didn't want to," Ichigo deadpans, grim and borderline glaring at her, "so wipe that grin off."

"But you're here anyway," Rukia points out coolly, and shrugs, and ushers him to an outdoor class behind another bush archway leading to a clearing. Ichigo follows, sputtering words inaudibly, something rhyming with 'coerced.'

Afar, he could see her little demons - 9 of them - all idly huddled on a corner, coloring something. They all wore uniforms, white and brown, but not their little yellow hats.

"...and it's not slave labor! Well, we are thinking of giving you some certificate of participation, you know," she defends, striking up a chatter, stirring their them-ness easily. She noticed Ichigo earlier actually - he was standing tersely; he stood for good 10 minutes before she called him. It is normal that she'll try to appease that.

" _Thinking_ ,' you say," Ichigo says darkly, rolling his eyes, "why did I even agree…?" He maintains a 2-meter distance behind her.

"You're early, no classes?" She inquires, looking over her shoulders at him. Her kinder school compound is vast, with well trimmed grass and neat landscape work.

At times like this, she reminds him of the difference in their age. Her pace is unhurried, lazy, whereas Ichigo keeps walking briskly. She has that matured streak, he still a boy though.

Ichigo thumbs the strap of his black backpack, thinking carefully. This is the first time he is openly invited to her classes, not counting those times he visited her. "Yeah," he answers after a while.

The trees shade them well from spring sunshine, and the tall flower bushes block the roadview along with the wooden fences. On the clearing ahead, pushed aside where whiteboards, puppet boxes, some dollhouses, toys, chairs, and some other things. Of course, she conducts her classes on where it's more conducive.

It's about 10 am, 2 hours before the demons go home. Rukia said she'll help him build props after that, 'see? I'm not all-too evil,' he remembered her saying in passing.

They reach the clearing. "They're geniuses - smarter than you, so don't feel too bad about it, hm?" Rukia mock whispers to him, but it's loud enough to get the young demons' attention - who all turn to Ichigo simultaneously the moment his bright orange hair appears on the clearing before erupting into yays and yells and suddenly running to him full tilt.

"What the f-" he says, when the first kid bumps to him and stomps on his shoe, before self-censoring.

Ichigo turns to Rukia, helpless, sporting a I-didn't-sign-up-for-this look,"Oi, control these freaks! Why don't you?! Don't they have a leash or something?!"

"They are not freaks!" Rukia, all clean and pretty on her dress and mutant bunny apron, says indignantly, "How dare you suggest leash? They're geniuses, smarter than you-!"

"Shut up, _please_." Ichigo tells Rukia amidst the demons' chatter chorus of "Carrot-kun!" and "yay! he turned up!" and "bow to me!" and "yes, a live horse!" and "let me go first!" and tugs on his pants and backpack and toolbox.

"No, I _don't_ please," Rukia triumphantly smirks at him, " _behave_ , Ichigo."


	29. Chapter 29

just changes.

xxix.

On the other side of the road, the last student to leave waves enthusiastically back at Rukia - which she returns, and his small face lits up, then, the boy goes to openly glare at Ichigo,while his nanny calls on to him. The boy brandishes his fists and blows him a raspberry - there's been a war between these two, formally declared two hours ago.

"What a retard," Ichigo grunts and holds his fist up in return, signalling the boy, and mouths carefully, _I will punch you_.

"Ichigo, quit bullying my kids," Rukia taps his head with the handle of her own umbrella a little too harshly because he is petty like that.

Rukia and Ichigo are both standing at the school archway, she resumes her waving, smiling and pleasant, while Ichigo is a tall, looming, scowling, mean, _petty_ lord of darkness beside her.

"They're not your kids," Ichigo rolls his eyes, there's another rough grunt emerging from his chest, there's a persistent need to point this out, but then, "- oh wait, I'll take that back. They totally are! Your kids are violent little pieces of shit-"

"Quit it, Ichigo," snaps Rukia once more, with a good demonstration of patience. There's a question about who's going to be the play's hero, the kid wants to be, but Ichigo appeared on the cover of their invitation. The kid threw sand at him and then water-gunned him with glue so Ichigo will be a proper monster and he'll take the hero role.

"I will make him eat glue when I see his punk face again."

"I will make _you_ eat glue first, Ichigo," threats Rukia softly, not looking at him, but at the boy as he disappears into a corner, still waving at her.

Ichigo slants her a look, "heh," but drops the subject nevertheless, he doesn't doubt she'll make good of her threat.

It's just them at the entrance. Rukia's umbrella shades her well - him, barely, because he's tall, it covers half of his face which makes him more loomy. She considers the weather, some warm air wisps, it's almost summer now. It'll be a good time to arrange for a visit.

"Well then, I'm going now," Ichigo tells her, thumbing the strap of his bag, and picking up his tools as well. Behind him, there's a finished lengthy stage and posts for lights to be installed.

It's been a full day, Ichigo - feigning hardship and endlessly complaining - breezed through his work on one corner shaded by the trees, and actually really didn't mind the little demons running around him (except for that one). She's ready for him, provided his work-stuff, and a plate of freshly sliced fruits and grilled vegetables for snacks every hour.

Rukia supervised her students well, he's noticed (he's watched). She continued with her outdoor lessons about the ecosystem with surprising dedication, pausing to pay attention to her students, with some introductory Euclid algorithm thrown in for good measure. Todai entrance examinations, she said, were particularly hard. Rukia, he said, was particularly overreacting. The kids are not due college entrance examination for about a decade.

They worked relatively quiet the rest of the hours, tucked within their own corners. Ichigo's glad for having to see her work.

Students went home earlier, except for the boy because Ichigo stayed behind, locked in a fight, some sort of petty skirmishes with the props in the crossfire. They refused to stop bugging each other. Rukia favored the boy obviously, but she's given Ichigo a small bar of chocolate - taken from the school's secret stash of sweets - every time he lets the boy have a go at him and only respond with a bark.

"Ahh," says Rukia in response, "thank you for the help, Ichigo," she says simply. There's another gust of warm wind, and the trees nearby whisper.

Ichigo steps out, and closes the picket fence gate. The afternoon is fully settled, somewhere between post-spring and pre-summer, his orange hair and her apple green dress are a clash.

"Eh? That's it?" his response, there's an annoying curve going on about his mouth, "I took a beating from your itty-bitty fanatic-boyfriend."

"Your pockets are filled chocolates, don't complain," Rukia says sternly, folding her arms, "and don't call them that."

And Ichigo's response is only a smirk - a good-natured one, then, "all right." He turns and leave.

 _Ahh_ , she'll be seeing him more, "All right. "


	30. Chapter 30

what do you think takes longer to develop in terms of age diff, 19→26 or 26→19, ichiruki 4vr? i went longer with 26→19, that's why (-ha! and we're in ch30 now), and thank you. *public

guest, i do appreciate the intention - thank you, really, but you don't have to leave empty reviews on my works to boost counts, it's all right, i don't mind. i hope you don't take this negatively. and thank you again - that's very humbling to know, and to you too, gin and juveniliare.

yes, lightdesired. habit, i don't state all character names. like in this one.

xxx.

Of all the languages Rukia heard her brother speak - Dutch, Portuguese, Viennese German and all the others - she likes hearing his Japanese the most no matter how brief. It speaks home.

Though Rukia doesn't live in the same house anymore, he is home, and so is she.

She comes to visit him one afternoon when she knew he has finished settling in and joins him for tea - announced, definitely. It would be a _so_ -terrible idea to come otherwise, impolite, as he would say, and unbecoming.

"I am well, thank you," Rukia answers to an unspoken question. He nodded - of course, he did. She lived with him long enough to know what his pointed look is specifically asking. His eyebrows and eyelids are more telling, _very expressive -_ if the thin line moves up a millimeter - he's curious, moves down a bit and closer - he's furious. This abundance in self-expression unfortunately doesn't extend to the rest of his face.

"I see," her brother answers after, so briefly, so very practiced, like he isn't grandly multilingual and these are the only words he know. Rukia is used to short answers anyway.

"Have you come to visit - or stay for long, nii-sama?" Rukia asks.

"We shall see, Rukia."

"Of course."

Usually, there's so much more to talk about, after perfunctory _hellos_ and _how are yous_ , like how his trips have been, and does he still like gardenias on his dining table, why he so casually shopped for a university - is that even a thing now? - like many families do, but her brother is never one for such, and Rukia has grown accustomed to that, and often, there's more to their silences anyway.

" _Rukia_ ," her brother starts - very brief, very practiced, like-, "what have you been doing lately?"

 _Ahh_ , thinks Rukia, such a pointed question, is this an interrogation? but nothing around her suggests so. The afternoon carries a very late-spring hue, the peonies are bright yellow and orange on the sunlit estate gardens. Her brother, black-haired and handsome and dapper in black and dark blue, and her, with a penchant for white dresses, are sitting on a two-seater table next to a large window with airy curtains, there are warm cups of green tea and mild jasmine - this is hardly suggestive of an interrogation.

But he is looking at her and he requires an answer, and answers like 'same, same' and 'oh you know, the usual won't suffice, are impolite because they do not address the question, so she answers as concisely as possible, "I am employed as a teacher, Nii-sama. I have been doing work on my drawings on the side - as a hobby."

"Kindergarten?" he says, same tone, nothing condescending.

"Yes," Rukia responds earnestly.

" _Hn_ ," he says and Rukia picks that up, her brother doesn't _grunt_ , much more, express _'hn_.'

But what would he expect? Karakura is categorically normal, really green and really blue under the sky, and has unexceptional brick and concrete small houses. It is much, much uninteresting for an old money family patriarch steeped in modernity and influences worldwide - (yet coincidentally, Karakura is a proper getaway from the same modernity and influences). People are bound to have normal jobs and normal lives - even the weather reports are frustratingly accurate and rarely severe. There aren't large-scale, heart stopping bank robberies, at most, cats stranded on trees and petty thieves and jaywalkers saturate police day reports. And Rukia's never been in the police day reports.

"And I've never been in police day reports," she blurts out, but stops at her blunder, "-oh."

Her brother looks at her, eyebrows raised, Rukia thinks he might be a bit amused, "as you should be," he says, then offers, "do you require an exhibitor for your works? I can arrange."

"Oh no, nii-sama, that would be too much. It is not - I mean, they are private...for now. I am just satisfied getting work done, you see."

After a moment, when she has none to add, he nods once more, stiffly still but in acceptance of her continued independence that bore no connection to the family; she broke away and he let her go but he remains watchful and concerned. He says, too serenely quiet, "that is good, Rukia."

Rukia brightens, it's possible her brother is doing only some usual, routine brotherly catch-up check, "thank you, nii-sama."

(while it's true that don't talk openly about affection, neither do they talk about business. With her brother, one would expect the topic to be always about bilateral free trade agreements, geopolitical effects on economic policies, what do you do for philanthropy (oh, buy universities definitely), NASDAQ and somesuch - _no_ )

Then they both took a sip of their tea. She's been well, he's been well, they are a family sitting for afternoon tea together, conversing.

.

.

.

.

.

.

"I heard there's been a boy visiting you."


	31. Chapter 31

xxxi.

Ichigo is bringing home a steel bicycle from an early sale, a second-hand, _mamachari_ -type with basket attached on the front and a bell. It is still in good condition. Now he and Rukia both have bicycles: bus rides be damned.

Unlike her, he takes to cycling with natural ease - is stable, and is always staying to the left side of the road and stopping for pedestrians to let them walk first.

He has a nice nice neighborhood, which is even nicer during idle Saturday mornings. The city streets are clean, the sky is pale blue, the trees are cut low - their yellow-green leaves whisper when mild breeze comes to pass, and everywhere else smells of breakfast and orange juice and coffee.

Ichigo pulls a stop ahead a red light. He is at the front of the road with very few cars and a handful of other cyclists.

With half a minute before the light turns green, a loud and black motorcycle suddenly stops beside him. Out of curiosity, Ichigo looks.

The rider is clad in black - deep, punkish, roguish leather black, and red, and is wearing a helmet, sleek nonetheless. The rider looks over his way, too.

Ichigo, in "Good Vibes" shirt and checkered pajama pants in comparison, is mildly surprised when the rider adjusts his tinted visor and reveals a man with mean eyes and bonafide thug-like sneer and tattooed eyebrows and red hair.

"You just fucked it," says the man after a moment, equally mean, " I suppose you can't un-fuck it, huh?"

"What?" replies Ichigo, surprised and clueless, he tilts towards the man, "fucked what?"

The red-head man flashes him a very big, toothy grin, and tells him gleefully, "your life, bro."

"What the hell?" hisses Ichigo, there's some 5 seconds left before the light turns green, but the man has his complete attention now. Eyebrows scrunched, he asks, "who are you? Or wait - are you...just trying to sound cool?"

But the man sneers even more, pulls out his mobile phone and quickly snaps a point blank photo of Ichigo.

"Boss wants pics," he says, then speeds away the moment the light changed, leaving Ichigo and some trees lightly swaying behind him.

"What the fuck was that…"

* * *

lightdesired, vine, charmednightskye, darkwriter69 and guest - thank you ~ヾ(＾∇＾)


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